her. Gone were the shyly lowered eyes, the deferential tilt of her head. Instead she stood tall, with an air of confidence about her. She’d slimmed down, and while she would never be fashionably thin, her top and bottom were now the same size. Her longer hair flattered her face, softening her features and making her look more approachable.
Sometime in the past few months, the small mouse had been transformed into a more self-sufficient creature. She didn’t see herself as the desert wildcat Khalil liked to call her, but she’d made definite improvements.
She walked over to her desk, to the stacks of folders there. Sometimes she worked in the evenings. There was so much to do, and it all took time. Meetings filled her schedule, and when she wasn’t busy with that, there were speeches to write, phone calls to make, not to mention her time with Khalil. She’d come a long way from the lonely virgin who ached to belong to someone.
Dora glanced around the spacious room, then clicked on the desk lamp so she could see more clearly. The luxurious furnishings no longer intimidated her. In fact, very little intimidated her. Even Amber’s harsh assessments of her life and her relationship with Khalil had wounded, but not destroyed. She was no longer Dora Nelson, doormat, she was Dora Khan, princess of El Bahar.
In a blinding flash of insight she could neither explain nor describe, she understood what Fatima had been talking about. She understood the one thing she could give to Khalil that he most desired. Her love.
She smiled as she shook her head. How simple. Why didn’t she see it before? Khalil wasn’t interested in an affair with Amber, and he didn’t want a showpiece for a wife. He needed and wanted an equal partner—someone who would match him in intelligence and drive, not to mention vision for El Bahar. She was all those things, not Amber. And even if the other woman was younger and prettier, Dora refused to believe their lovemaking could be any more satisfying than what she and Khalil shared. When he took her in his arms, she felt the magic as their intimacy bound them together in a biological and spiritual union that could not be destroyed.
Except…except he’d never once admitted he was wrong. He’d never apologized for what he did back when he seduced her and married her, and he’d never acknowledged his feelings. He’d never told her he loved her.
She sank onto the chair in front of the desk and rested her hand on the pile of papers there. It was a question of stubbornness and wills, she thought. Who would give in first? And if no one gave in, who would win?
“If I give in on this, I…”
Dora pressed her lips together. If she gave in, then what? Would Khalil suddenly walk all over her? Would she cease to be a deputy minister? Or would she achieve her heart’s desire?
“But I want him to be the one to bend,” she said aloud. “I want him…” She pressed her lips together. “I want him to love me back.”
She thought of how he’d persevered, coming to her room night after night and seducing her until she consented to make love with him. She thought of how she frustrated him by refusing to live in his quarters, yet he never displayed his irritation when they worked together. She thought of his pride when she’d been made deputy minister and how he was content to watch her take on the king when her ideas differed from Givon’s. On more than one occasion, he’d allowed her to speak for them both.
She thought of his attempts to woo her and how they spent evenings alone, just the two of them, reading or talking. She thought of the places he wanted to show her. She thought of how he teased her that he would only allow her to give him sons, yet how he liked to talk about having at least one daughter, or even two.
These were not the actions of a man who didn’t care, or even those of a man who had settled. Perhaps she had not been his chosen bride, but she was now his only wife. He had yielded in many ways. Was she going to risk it all to have him answer her demands?
She curled her fingers into her palm and as she did so, she felt something thick and hard under the papers. At first she wasn’t sure what it was, but as she cleared away the sheets, she smiled as she saw the ceremonial dagger that a visiting dignitary had given her the previous week. Not knowing what else to do with it, she’d been using it to open letters.
Now she stared at the gleaming blade and the gold handle. She touched the cool metal. How on earth was she going to talk to Khalil about their relationship? They needed to change the status quo, but she hated to give in nearly as much as he did.
As she traced the blunt side of the blade, an idea formed. It was outrageous and ridiculous, and it just might work. A quick glance at the clock told her that the party should be over by now. Dora grinned as she rose to her feet. There was no time like the present. And if she was wrong about Khalil and he was currently with Amber, then she was better off knowing before she made a complete fool out of herself.
Less than a half hour later, she moved quietly through the halls of the palace. She’d dressed in one of her most elegant gowns, a low-cut designer original that exposed more cleavage than she usually liked—but tonight she needed to be armed in more ways than one. She held the dagger in her right hand, pressing it flat against her body. She doubted anyone would notice the weapon.
Fortunately she made her way to Khalil’s chamber without being seen. Once there, she let herself inside and quietly locked the door behind her. Then she walked toward him.
Her husband was alone. She took in that information with a brief glance around the room. He sat at his desk, which faced the ocean. So far he hadn’t noticed her presence.
She studied him. The French doors were closed, but he hadn’t drawn the shutters, so the lamps in the room made the windows reflect like mirrors. She could clearly see the dark lock of hair that fell across his forehead. He’d discarded his tuxedo jacket and tie and tossed them across the sofa. His shirt was unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
He was the picture of masculine casualness, and his male beauty took her breath away. How she wanted him, she thought as the longing swept through her. Not just in her bed, but in her life. She wanted to grow old with this man. As far as she could tell, there was only one way to find a compromise between what she wanted and what he was able to give. Dear Lord, please let her be right.
She took a step toward him, then another. Her heart pounded so hard, she thought she might faint. When she was six feet behind him, Khalil finally looked up and caught her reflection in the mirror.
“Dora, what are you doing here? Are you all right?”
She watched his face, noting the transformation from delight at her unexpected appearance, to concern. Then she moved up behind him and held the dagger to his throat.
He didn’t even have the courtesy to look surprised, she thought in disgust as Khalil simply set down his pen and met her gaze in the window.
“If you sought to gain my attention,” he said calmly, “you have done so.”
She pressed the blade against his skin. “If I ever find you’ve been unfaithful to me, I will cut you, Khalil, but it won’t be across the throat.”
“I see. Thank you for telling me in advance. However, I’m not concerned. I have no desire to be with any woman save my wildcat of a wife.”
She watched as a slight smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t for a moment think I’m bluffing,” she informed him. “I will do it. You are my husband and the possessor of my heart. As such you owe me respect and honor.”
His
